


Taping up for the fight

by sheepysleepy



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Fist Fights, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Rated T for swearing, Violence, but the tension is there, middle-graphic violence, they're assholes and I love them very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28069191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepysleepy/pseuds/sheepysleepy
Summary: Fighting was never a problem for Frank, quite the opposite. He loved it; the rush, the violence, the attention. he just craved it.Ever since he had moved up to Ormond everybody wants a piece of him. And Frank would give them, what they wanted.
Relationships: Joey & Frank Morrison, Joey/Frank Morrison
Kudos: 15





	Taping up for the fight

**Author's Note:**

> Back at it again. I think I started writing this like a month ago and left it. But now I finished it and I am excited. 
> 
> Have fun reading!

Frank Morrison was never afraid. If you’d ask him what words he would use to describe himself, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer with something like „fearless“ or „the best“ or „the face of god right in front of your fucking nose“. He didn’t know what weakness was, he always held his head up high and no matter how much the world seemed to be chewing him up and spitting him out, he wouldn’t bow. He was a fearless, born leader with natural charisma and undeniable psychopathic tendencies. 

It was also a widely known fact, that Frank Morrison never backed down from a fight. Multiple scars on his still young body told tales of many bloody fights and a rough life that seemed to just love shitting on him. He’d seen it all; cigarette burns, stab wounds, deep scratch patterns, zick-zack wounds and even bite marks from one or another feral kid at the old foster home, whom he had to kick his jaw in as retaliation and bloody desire.

But what he most favored were fist fights. The numb feeling he had inside of him, ever since his whore of a mother overdosed and left him to fend for himself, always faded when the adrenaline of a good old-fashioned brawl kicked in. He felt the rush, as if he was high on drugs when his fist connected with some fuckers nose. A strange scent of euphoria took him over when he tackeled his opponent, with a strength too big for his admittedly shorter frame, to the ground and pounded his face in. Even better when a cheering crowd surrounded them. What can he say? He’s just a slut for the attention.

And it made him feel fucking great.

Up until he moved to Ormond, those were the only moments he felt alive. The rest was just a blur of the same old routine. He didn’t feel like a living being, that really existed. He felt like a dull ghost among the hyper spirits of his peers. Caught the attention of everyone, but was forgotten in a glimpse.

And then he met Julie. The girl who changed his life and made him into what he was now known in Ormond; Frank fucking Morrison, a threat to look out for. With her he became the one and only center of attention, when he protected her from a member of the schools basketball team with grabby hands at one of her infamous house parties. Frank might have been shorter and only known as the new guy in Ormond, but he should not have been underestimated. Years of fighting experience were no match that asshole and he got his ass handed to him in front of the whole school.

Since then everyone wants a piece of him, both good and bad, but he couldnt bring himself to give a shit about that. Everyone wanted him, they yearned for him they needed him.  
And he would give them what they wanted. 

„When’s the fight again?“ Joey glanced up at Frank, who was sitting on his bed, before fixing his gaze back onto his phone, and gave a bemused smile half smile from where he was leaning on the wall on the opposite side to his friend.

„They really are right when they say you get more forgetful with age.“

„Motherfucker, who the fuck is they?“

At that Joey couldn’t hold back a laugh at his friends response, quickly throwing a glance at Frank to search his face for any reaction. He only knew three options: one - that typical shit-eating Frank grin, two – the confused dumbfound look, three – a quirked eyebrow. Option two was a bingo. His friend gave him that look of complete and utter confusion, like Frank had no idea, what led to his friend doubling over with laughter. It was something Joey had seen him often giving him, as they grew closer and he learned with time, that it was because they grew closer. Frank was the type of guy – so Joey learned – who didn’t like to show any kind any kind of weakness, someone who was always tough and on top of everything, a facade which seemed to fade away after a while and they could just be themselves.

Joey too was no stranger to facades, which might have been a reason, he understood Frank so well.

„It’s an expression, man – or something like that? I don’t fucking know, ask me something simpler“, Joey laughed, watching as Frank gave him an annoyed eyeroll in return.

„Sure, will you fucking tell me now, when the fight is or do I have to wait for Nick to turn up here and kick my ass without prep time?“

Joey gave a thougthful hum, gaze back on the phone, where he texted with Julie. „I don’t think you’re gonna get your ass handed to you by that fucker. I mean sure, he’s kinda a bully, but he only stomps on freshmen, who are like half his size.“

Frank scoffed now standing up from his spot on the bed and searching through a pile of half dirty and not-that-dirty laundry for his trademark leather jacket. „Well I got some news for you, buddy. I’m basically the size of those freshmen.“

„Give or take an inch.“ Joey squinted and tilted his head to the side, eyeing Frank with fake thoughtfulness. „More like half an inch for sure.“

„Asshole.“

Joey watched as Frank finally found his beloved jacket - a similar one to his own, though a bit smaller and not as tight around Franks shoulders as on his own - and put it on, before running his hand through his dirty blonde short hair, a glint of something he couldn’t decipher in his foggy baby blue eyes. Joey couldn’t take his eyes off of him for some reason.

„You nervous, man?“ There was a tinge of worry in his voice. Frank gave him an incredulous look.

„Nah, ‘course not. It’s not my first fight, y’know that?“

„Yeah sure.“

Silence fell over them with Frank letting himself plop back onto his unmade bed to stare out the window, and Joey – having long forgotton about his text conversation with Julie – looking awkwardly to nowhere specific. 

„The fights in half an hour.“ He finally had mercy on Frank.

„Thanks for finally fucking telling me.“ He huffed before reaching over to his bedside table, opening the drawer and after a brief rummage, getting what seemed to be bandages out of it, before he started to tie them around his hands. 

Joey watched the clearly known procedure, for a few seconds before speaking up. „What’s the purpose of those?“

„Huh?“

„The bandages, what are they good for?“

„Oh“, Frank lifted his right hand – already being halfway done with it – and flexed his fingers slightly, „I’m just taping up my knuckles before the fight, that’s all.“

Joey raised an eyebrow. „Taping… up… your knuckles?“

„Yeah, never heard of it, man?“ The corner of Franks upper lip quirked up in a half smirk.

„Obviously not.“ Joey shrugged, before making his way to the bed to sit beside Frank and have a closer look at the bandages. He noticed the were wrapped in a certain way, he didn’t know the purpose of. He also didn’t miss the many varying in size and shape scars littered all over his hand.

„It’s so you don’t bruise your knuckles so easily, eh? Learned it from some kid in foster care, who was super into boxing and shit. Bastard almost knocked my teeth out, guess he didn’t think, I’d fight without bandages.“ Frank gestured to two particularly nasty scars on his left – his dominant – hand, right on the knuckles of his pinky and ring finger. „Got those from the fight and he a concussion, we became buddies after that.“ A chuckle.

Joey hummed. „Guess that’s How-to-make-friends au Frank.“

„I didn’t have to fight you, idiot.“ Frank pointed out.

„No you were just there one day. I took pity on you and adopted you.“ Joey grinned. „But I guess we can still fight if you want.“

„Don’t talk about me like I am some fucking stray dog.“ His friend muttered, an offended look on his face.

„Uh-huh. C’mon, we should get going.“ Joey said, throwing a quick glance at his watch, knowing very well they still had plenty of time, but wanting to end this conversation now.

Frank and Joey stood and walked out of Franks room to exit the plain bungalow, that belonged to Clive, walking past a pile of empty booze bottles and their owner, who was laying passed out on the ratty sofa. Frank didn’t miss the opportunity to poke him in his cheek hard. Clive didn’t react, the only way to tell that he was still alive was by his massive beer belly rising up and down.

They walked out onto the street and along the sidewalk in comfortable silence. The fight was happening on school grounds, when hopefully every person who had authority had left. It was Frank’s suggestion, to throw that fucker Nick off and to make it more thrilling. There was no guarantee, that there would be nobody left there and he knew that his opponent avoided getting caught by teachers in fear of his parents. Fucking loser.

The school wasn’t far away from Franks house and they arrived to a rather large crowd of people already waiting for his arrival. It looked as though the whole school had gathered to see their fight - although he was sure it was like three quarters – and it filled Frank with more emotion than he was willing to admit. His inner attention slut thriving.

Nick sat surrounded by his half-assed thugs on one of the benches, man spreading and acting like he had the biggest dick and the world revolved around him. Frank almost laughed out loud at that thought and glanced at Joey, whose look of passive annoyance shifted to amusement at Frank’s smug expression. Wordlessly, Joey put two fingers in his mouth and let out a loud whistle, piercing through any conversation. All eyes turned to them and Frank stepped forward confidently.

„Hey Nicky! Thought you wouldn’t want to have the whole school watch you getting your ass kicked! You got some deep running kinks, eh?“ Frank shouted through the crowd, who had formed some sort of passage way from Frank to Nick. Like they were living water parting to let some sort of violent Moses beat the shit out of his enemies. 

A low chuckle ran through the crowd at Frank’s remark and Nick’s face darkened.

„Quit the bullshit, Franky.“ Nick rose and walked through the crowd until he stood right in front of Frank, attempting to tower over him with his height advantage of being on head taller than him. The smaller though was unfazed and even let his smirk grow. 

Frank scoffed, getting mockingly on his tip-toes to stand face to face to his opponent. „Then do your fucking worst, get beaten to shit and run weeping to Mommy and Daddy like the little cunt you are.“ Now was the time for insults and Frank knew talking about his parents would hit something deep. He had always been good at reading people after all.

And as he thought, hurt flashed in Nicks eyes, so brief but yet so vulnerable. But before Frank could pry on that, Nick grinned and opened his mouth to speak.

„I’ll beat you all the way back to Calgary, where you get handed off to another foster family, who wants nothing to do with your stupid fucking face.“

Frank would never admit it, but that hit something. He believed he had gotten quite good at masking his emotions and locking his heart away in an iron cage. His weak spots weren’t obvious by what he could tell; he often talked about his dead mother with morbid humor and ease, mentioned his absent father in jokes and left anything he didn’t want to talk about unspoken. Foster care however was something he could never truly recover from. Nobody here knew what it was like to be unwanted, to be seen as a burden, to be something no one ever would love or accept. And that was his only fucking weakness.

He didn’t let it show though. He was too good at playing pretend, at being fake. So he smiled in a way that didn’t let on how his jaw was clenched, before replying.

„Would still be more wanted there than you at your own fucking home.“

The swing was no surprise and Frank managed easily to dodge it before it could connect with any part of his body. Nick toppled slightly forward at the loss of balance and Frank used his chance to lift his knee up in one swift motion, missing his opponents gut unfortunatly and instead kicking him in the chest, from which he recovered too quickly after letting out a wheeze of pain.

Frank gripped Nick’s shoulder roughly before landing a good punch on his nose. He felt the warmth in his fist and the adrenaline rushing through him. Better than drugs, better than alcohol, better than love. Nicks nose cracked and he let out a strangeled cry. He retaliated with a good punch to Franks jaw and another with his gut.

The cheers and shouts around him became apparent to Frank and he knew he wouldn’t, couldn’t and shouldn’t quit. Not that he intended on doing so anyway. He wasn’t a fucking coward.

He grabbed Nick by his lapels with surprising strength, a feral look on his face, before punching him over and over again, stepping forward and making the crowd move aside in the progress. Another blow before Frank let go and Nick stumbled backward. He gripped his fist, feeling warm blood oozing through the bandages, but he couldn’t feel a thing. He didn’t even know if it was his own.

In a surprise attack, Nick launched himself growling at Frank tackling him to the ground. Frank could do nothing but let out a grunt of surprise, before his opponent was atop of him now beating him as revenge. A few blows before Frank had enough and put all his strength into turning their positions around. But Nick didn’t yield so easily. They rolled around the ground, fighting for dominance in battle. 

Frank could feel himself on top of his high with the cheering crowd and numbing adrenaline, giving him all the attention and validation he desperately craved, longed for even. If he weren’t fighting right now, a small voice in the back of his head would be calling him a whore, doing everything for a price. But he didn’t let it on, after all, he was Frank fucking Morrison, the biggest menace Ormond had ever seen.

Finally Frank felt another rush kick in and he managed to overpower Nick for a few seconds. To ensure his power over him, he put his hands to his opponents throat almost immediately, giving it a rough squeeze to seize his efforts to escape. He still made a few strangled noises in protest and kicked lightly so Frank spoke up.

„You better stop fucking moving, Nicky.“ His tone was deadly and Nick looked at him with a glare that couldn’t hide the terror he felt.

Frank was going to say a few more words, before he suddenly became uncomfortly aware of the silence around him. His blood lust faded as he threw a quick glance to the side to see the crowds reactions. No more cheering, no shouts, not even a whisper. They were looking at him in fear and discomfort. That couldn’t be. They should be fucking adoring him right now. He was doing what they wanted. He was giving them a show for fucks sake!

Every sense in the book came crashing down on him. The taste of copper in his mouth, the pulsing pain in his bleeding knuckles, the sight of his frightened peers, the sound of strong breathing of him and the smell of sweat and blood around him.  
The high had worn off.

Hesitantly he let go of Nick’s throat and stood up from the straddling position he had taken upon him but his icy glare still made it clear for his opponent not to move. He was just laying there on the ground, looking up at Frank without a noise, except for his heavy panting. Tears stung in both their eyes, but Frank’s were almost unnoticable while Nick’s were obvious.

„Go fuck off, you little bitch.“ He forced himself to triumphingly smirk. „I already made you cry.“

Now the crowd chuckled again, strained and unsure, but at least they chuckled. Julie emerged from the common faces to declare Frank the winner. Weird, Frank hadn’t even notice her presence. His inner slut was calling again, as he heard the crowd cheering for him through the applause. That was better.

He looked down at the back of his trembling hands, inspecting the damage. Yep, his skin had broken and there were probably some nasty cuts below the blood soaked bandages now. He’d probably get new scars from this. So much for taping up.

Frank was slightly startled when a hand suddenly found its way onto his shoulder and he turned to look Joey right into his smirking face. Frank regained his smugness in a second.

„Dude, that was fucking sick! The shit you pulled there, I’ve never seen you like that before!“ From all the adoring eyes, Joey’s still shone the brightest, like the others were just some stars and Joey was the moon. But if Joey was the moon, Frank was the sun and the moon couldn’t shine without the sun.

Frank put an arm around his shoulder pulling him down to his level in victory, before grinning at him and leaning in towards his ear until his lips brushed against the shell of it. It made Joey shiver. Franks lips were chapped and dry and he knew that Frank was missing a piece of his left front row tooth.

A rough whisper rang through his ear, only he and Frank could hear.

„Me neither.“


End file.
